High on the clean and wind-washed hills
Christ in His beauty stands
And looks on the jewel He loves to hold
In His sheltering and nail-pierced hands
The rustling tree-tops softly stir
in whispering and hushed surprise
the flowers at His feet look up and see
their reflection in Love’s own eyes.
Lovely the wind in the pale smooth grass,
and the hills in their shadow filled folds,
and lovely the light on the tumbled clouds
that reflects on the jewel He holds.
Christ in His radiance walks the woods
and looks on His house with love
and the peace of his passing lingers long
in the wind smoothed hills above.
Poem written in 1949 by April O'Leary RSCJ (d February 2013)
Photos by Steph Romaine RSCJ